Ducks

Something, anything, in lieu of finishing the draft of the manuscript. I've hit a kind of mini-wall and am having trouble surmounting it. I don't know if it's the head cold that makes everything fuzzy and drains my writing of its emotional content, or if the writing itself is just bad. I do know that I have to keep pressing onward, one way or the other, and write something down so that I don't get completely bogged.

So last night a package arrived for the toddler son, a brace(?) of four rubber duckies with electrodes on the bottom of their bodies which, when connected by some conducting material such as a fingertip or water, caused LEDs in the ducks' bodies to begin flashing various garish colors such as electric blue, day-glo pink, sherbert orange, etc. You get the idea. Toddler son LOVED them. He went crazy. Tossed them between his hands, clutched them to his chest, staggered all around the kitchen pressing his awkward tiny finger against the two metal buds trying to ignite the ducks. But this was just the warm-up. When we put him in the tub with his ducks, the water of course kept them blinking nonstop (part of the design I'm sure). He had a fabulous time.

Wasn't so stoked when we shut the bathroom door and turned out the light, plunging the bathroom into complete darkness. Then he was not so stoked. The wild strobing colors made him nervous and I'm sure the laughing adult faces looked rather grotesque as they flashed and faded in our disco bathroom. He, of course, looked adorable throughout as he struggled to be brave, and lost. We didn't let him cry; when we opened the door to let the light from the hallway spill in, he immediately calmed down and went back to dunking and clutching those garish ducks.